Scott K.
Yelp
Nestled in Hudson's rapidly gentrified embrace, Le Perch is a beacon for two distinct species: Manhattan expats who fled to upstate during the pandemic and silver-haired property moguls whose aesthetic screams "trust fund chic." Think trust-fund twenty-somethings in cashmere hoodies mingling with sixty-something gentlemen accessorized by bespoke pugs. It's a scene, darling, and the vibe is as curated as an overpriced gallery wall.
Now, onto the food: I ordered the roast beef sandwich, which was... fine. Perfectly adequate, if uninspired. The Diet Coke? A carbonation failure so grave it may have come from a generic store-brand nightmare. But the fries--oh, the fries! Crisp, golden, and salty enough to make your taste buds dance. They're the kind of fries you justify paying $10 for because, let's face it, you're already here.
We also ordered a baguette for the table, served with pumpkin spread and butter. Points for seasonal charm, but--brace yourself--it wasn't warm. If you're paying for artisanal carbs, they should at least arrive with a cozy glow, right?
Service? Polite but unremarkable, with a hostess whose energy hovered somewhere between "meh" and "mercenary." They'll get you seated, but don't expect to be charmed or dazzled along the way.
Overall, Le Perch caters perfectly to its niche: those who enjoy shelling out for a brunch experience that whispers "clean, curated, and vaguely upscale" but rarely shouts "bold flavor" or "culinary adventure." It's food you describe as "lovely" because you've just spent a small fortune on it, not because it actually wowed you.
Would I return? Eh, probably not. But for the gray-haired ladies browsing Hudson's art shops, this is their jam. Overpriced, subtle, and perfectly tailored to their taste for restraint over risk. Le Perch will thrive--for them, not me.